


A Welcome Invasion

by pantswarrior



Series: The Cultists' Cycle [6]
Category: Vagrant Story
Genre: Light-Hearted, M/M, Plot What Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-26
Updated: 2010-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-11 06:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantswarrior/pseuds/pantswarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sydney is bored and playful. Hardin is trying to read, and not nearly as submissive as Sydney had thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Welcome Invasion

"Oh, Hardin...!"

Hardin lowered the book he was reading, glancing around the quiet library. Sydney's voice, but he was nowhere in sight. The mindspeak then, he thought with a sigh. Sydney knew full well how much he hated it, and yet this time he didn't sound serious. On the contrary, he sounded rather playful. Somewhat irritated, Hardin dutifully opened his mind to the mental rapport Sydney must have wanted, for whatever reason.

Nothing happened.

Hardin frowned curiously. Well, at least he didn't have to deal with it after all. He returned to his reading.

"Hardin...?"

At the second calling, he glanced around more warily. What was Sydney up to, that he should call out mentally and yet not say anything more when Hardin opened himself? He left the doors of his mind wide open, ready to receive what Sydney might say, but there was still nothing. Ordinarily, he'd have been worried, but Sydney certainly didn't sound as though he were having any sort of trouble.

"Is that so, friend Hardin? In fact, I do require your assistance..."

This time Hardin set the book down on the table before him in annoyance, frowning around at the room. So Sydney was reading his thoughts, but not willing to form a rapport between them. He wanted his secrets, apparently, and Hardin thought that rather unfair.

"Oh, but you are not doing anything too important, are you?"

"No," Hardin admitted aloud, though the mage was nowhere in sight, "but there is such a thing as common courtesy. What are you doing, Sydney?"

"Not much," came the mage's voice again, soft and teasing. "Not much at all. Why don't you come and see?"

Standing with a resigned sigh, Hardin decided it was best to play along - Sydney was unlikely to leave him alone until he got whatever it was he wanted - and concentrated on Sydney's energy patterns, homing in on them once he had found them. The mage was close, it seemed, and he blinked in surprise when the vision began; he was scrying the very room he was sitting in. His spiritual self, only slightly removed and standing behind him, began to turn his head curiously to look around.

"Surprise."

Snapped out of the scrying in shock, Hardin stumbled backwards, tripping over the chair, as he found the mage perched on the table just in front of him. Now sprawled on his back on the floor, he looked up to find Sydney peering down at him with a mischievous smirk.

"Gods, Sydney - what was that for?"

"I'm bored." With a graceful motion, Sydney moved from his half-kneeling position to stand over Hardin.

Recognizing the look in Sydney's eye, Hardin cringed, realizing the position he was now in was just how Sydney had likely planned it - laid out on the floor, knees apart, and completely unnerved. "Bored is not the word I'd use, I believe."

Sydney's smile curled wickedly, showing his agreement, and he fell to his knees between Hardin's own. Immediately his bladed fingers began to sever the laces on Hardin's shirt. "Do you object?"

"Ah, no," Hardin said quickly, still flinching at Sydney's determined, methodical touch, despite the fact that his body was already beginning to respond to the promise of what he knew would come soon enough. He _hated_ being caught off guard, no matter how pleasurable the results. "This is just... it's... it's sudden."

"When something occurs to me, I like to act on it," Sydney said with nonchalance. "You're a bit more cautious, though, you like to plan ahead... Perhaps this will put you more in the proper frame of mind."

\---

Leaning forward across the length of Hardin's body, Sydney placed a hand behind his friend's head, pulling him forward into a deep kiss. The larger man instinctively fought it for a moment - he never could stand to do anything on someone else's whim, even when he enjoyed it - but then, Hardin had never been able to resist the touch of Sydney's lips, and Sydney knew it. Soon he was returning the kiss with a ferocity that matched the mage's own, and Sydney knew he had Hardin exactly where he wanted him.

Almost where he wanted him, anyways - Hardin still insisted on struggling to sit up, simply out of instinct. With a long-suffering sigh that was at odds with the grin on his face, Sydney put both hands on Hardin's shoulders and pushed him backwards onto the floor again. "You never could go down without a fight, could you?" he asked lightly, placing his left hand, claws splayed dangerously, in the center of Hardin's chest, effectively pinning him. The other hand's claws busied themselves with unfastening Hardin's trousers as the larger man stared up at him.

"I should know by now that it will do no good," Hardin muttered, resigning himself to remain where he was.

"Why Hardin - you almost sound angry with me," Sydney observed. The hand holding Hardin in place pushed the larger man's shirt up, baring his abdomen so that the other hand could caress him gently. It would drive Hardin mad, Sydney knew, to brush the claws ever so lightly across his stomach, almost enough to catch in the skin but not quite, slowly working downwards. "Are you angry, my dear friend?"

"I... I hate you," Hardin whispered viciously, helpless as he was beneath Sydney's dangerous touch. "Sometimes, Sydney, I absolutely hate you. You've absolutely no regard for my wants or needs at all."

"That's not true," Sydney reproved him, lightening his touch as an involuntary shudder ran through Hardin's body. By this time, his left hand had all but removed Hardin's pants, and the claws of the right traced down Hardin's thigh. "Tell me - what are your needs, Hardin? What are your wants?"

Hardin laughed without humor. "You can read my heart," he said bitterly. "You know what I want - I want you. I need... you."

His words were true; his soul was crying out now for completion, for release, and Sydney could hear it plainly. The anger would pass soon enough, as it always did, and Hardin would forget it entirely. It was amusing, really, to provoke him in such a way, for Sydney had found that the larger man was much more... lively... when he was agitated.

An interesting thought occurred to Sydney all of a sudden, and he smiled sweetly at his captive lover. "Be more specific."

Hardin just stared at him in half-dazed astonishment. "...What?" The poor man - Sydney had never asked him _that_ before.

"What, specifically, do you want, Hardin?" Sydney repeated, his smile growing wider. John was always so reserved, so self-conscious... this could prove to be very entertaining.

"I... gods, Sydney!" Hardin exclaimed. "You know what I want!"

"Do I?" Lazily regarding his claws as they traced lines back up the inside of Hardin's thigh, Sydney shrugged. As much as he also ached for the bliss of physical union, this could very well be more rewarding in the long run. "Tell me. In detail."

Hardin could not completely suppress a shudder at the feel of the claws moving between his legs, and his face flushed red. "I... I want you... in me."

Or me in you.

The unspoken admission was as clearly heard as the spoken, due to Sydney's talents, and he raised an eyebrow. Hardin had never expressed such a desire before, always content - well, perhaps not _always_ content, Sydney thought with amusement, but resigned - to remain the submissive, yielding to Sydney's power and position. "Or...?" he prompted the larger man.

Hardin's face betrayed his surprise. So he heard...

"Or?" Sydney repeated, waiting. "What else would please you, Hardin?"

"Why must I say it?" he muttered, sullen. "You already know."

"But do you?"

Hardin glared at him, but Sydney's smile didn't falter for a second. Oh, how he loved these games... John fell into them so easily, and yet he had a strong enough will that they could be dragged on for quite some time before they ended. The tension only made the eventual release all that much more phenomenal when it came.

"Most men would be more ashamed to make the admission you've already made, dear Hardin," Sydney murmured, dragging the claws back up across the larger man's torso. By way of the Dark, he could feel the tense energy coiled within, and the faint ache where Hardin's jaw was clenched rightly, summoning up all his self-control not to give Sydney the satisfaction of a sound or a movement. "Why does this trouble you so?"

Hardin shook his head slightly. "It is not what _you_ want, is it?"

"Oh, I don't know," Sydney said lightly, leaning forward to nibble lightly at Hardin's neck. "How will you know unless you ask?"

"You could tell me."

"Not unless you ask."

"But you already know."

"But you have not asked."

Entertained by Hardin's self-consciousness, Sydney would have been content to go on like this for quite some time, despite his own longing that had caused him to seek out Hardin in the first place. Hardin, however, was rapidly approaching the breaking point, and he paused. "I want..." Clearly embarrassed, his face grew redder. "I want me... in you."

"Details."

"What?" Hardin exploded, starting to sit up. Sydney pushed him back down again, continuing to kiss across his stomach lightly. "Sydney, what are you doing?"

Sydney stopped for a moment, to look up at him with a smile. "What does it look like I am doing?"

"Gods..." Hardin's eyes lifted to the ceiling in exasperation. "You will not be content until you've driven me mad."

"And how would I drive you mad? All I am doing is asking you what you want."

"Does it matter what I want? What I truly want is to please you." Anything else is irrelevant.

Sydney considered a moment. Hardin was expressing the same sentiment he had heard in the thoughts of many of his followers over the years. Making love to someone who desired only to please did not seem so much making love as simply worship and servitude - it had always been one-sided, no matter how much pleasure he was able to give those who offered their bodies to him.

But then, they regarded him as something more than human - more god than man. If he'd spit in their faces, they'd have considered it a blessing, he thought wryly. Though even they themselves thought of it as an offering, they gained more than they gave, simply in the satisfaction they received from being so close to the object of their near-worship. With John, there was no such expectation. Hardin had never treated him as divinity, except inasmuch as any besotted man treated the object of his affections. Though his desires were the same on the surface, there was something much more basic, more raw, behind the thoughts. It intrigued Sydney to think that for once in his life, to make love was to make love - nothing more.

"Then please me." The words were flippant, casual, and made Hardin stare at him in disbelief. "Please me by telling me what you want."

Hardin laughed helplessly. "I do not think that you'd care to hear it."

"Oh, but I do. Tell me, friend... what would you do to me, if you could do anything at all?"

"Aside from strangling you with my bare hands when you do this to me? Sydney, I..." Gods, how could I put such things into words? I feel soiled even thinking them...

Sydney could feel the anger slipping away now, replaced with frustrated guilt. His friend _wanted_ to say these things now, it was obvious, but his upbringing had been so strict and proper that the thoughts shamed him deeply. "You are not in a church," Sydney reminded him kindly, his voice at odds with his actions. Pushing Hardin's shirt up a bit higher, he ran a claw lightly across the man's chest, and Hardin trembled despite his efforts. Fear or eroticism on their own were enough to make nearly any man crumble, Sydney had learned, and the two together made for a powerful combination. "Nor is there anyone but I present now to hear your words. Will I condemn you for vulgarity?"

Hardin laughed helplessly again. "At my most vulgar, I could not be half as much so as you."

"Certainly not." Leaning forward as he removed Hardin's shirt altogether, Sydney's tongue flickered across Hardin's left nipple, just barely enough for him to feel it. A moan was the mage's reward, and Hardin shuddered with pleasure beneath him. It would not be much longer now... "So you are free, Hardin - free to speak freely. Tell me everything," Sydney murmured, his head resting upon his lover's stomach.

"I... I want..." Hardin's fingers entwined in the mage's hair, for a moment twitching as if he considered yanking it roughly in frustration, then relaxing, twining the locks around his fingers. "I want to... push myself inside you... deeply. All the way. I want to make you feel as I do."

"Oh? So would you make me feel good? Or would you make me feel bad?"

Hardin hesitated before answering. "Both."

"Elaborate."

Again, Hardin hesitated. "Sydney..."

"Elaborate. What do you want me to feel? What do you want me to do?"

"What do I want you to do...?" Scream.

Sydney's eyebrows shot up in surprise. From his position, Hardin likely could not have seen the look on his face - unless he was scrying, Sydney supposed, for sometimes he did that in such situations. It vaguely amused him, the way his friend liked to watch their trysts from both inside and outside his body... But at any rate, Hardin probably had not seen his surprise, and Sydney remained cool and composed in voice. "Yes, Hardin. What do you want me to do?"

"Whatever pleases you."

"You're lying."

Hardin tensed at the accusation. The poor man was so uptight, Sydney thought to himself, and began to kiss down Hardin's broad chest to his stomach once more, both to show he held no malice and to coerce him to speak more honestly. "How would it be, if everything was exactly as you wished?"

Hardin gave up. "...I want you pinned, helpless beneath me," he muttered. "I want to take those metal wrists of yours... and hold them to the ground as you squirm beneath me, uncertain whether you are in heaven or hell." Imagining it was arousing him further, Sydney noted with amusement, and his lips moved further down, causing Hardin to convulse slightly beneath the gentle touch. "I want to see you struggling for... oh gods!" he gasped abruptly, his concentration shaken by what Sydney's lips did next.

Sydney spared a moment to smirk at the reaction. His mouth being otherwise occupied at the moment, he prompted Hardin mentally to continue. Do go on, dear friend...

"You expect me to... ahh... yes." Trying to compose himself as well as he could, Hardin drew a shaky breath. "I... oh, I want to see you at my mercy... just as I am at yours... gods, even now..." What a foolish dream, that I could ever have him in my control as he has me... He sees through me, he knows just what to do...

And then, Hardin? Sydney inquired. What would you do, if you had me at your mercy? One thing Sydney had learned early on about John: His friend found it difficult to hide anything when he was being... coerced.

"You're so quiet, Sydney... always so damned quiet..." Hardin muttered. "What I wouldn't give to force something more than a gasp from your throat... to make you cry out as you so often do to me..."

"Oh, really now...?" Sydney murmured, stopping what he was doing. Just as he'd expected, Hardin groaned at the sudden lack of stimulation, and Sydney grinned. "Why have you never tried, then?"

Hardin was beyond caring what Sydney was saying. "Please, Sydney... don't do this to me," he pleaded. "Just take your pleasure however you wish, damn you! I won't fight it..."

"Why not?" Sydney's grin grew wider, seeing Hardin's obvious discomfort. He was having a great deal of difficulty remaining composed, and that was exactly what Sydney was aiming for. Just a bit more... "Why do you not stand up for your own desires? Do I... frighten you, dear Hardin? Do you fear me too much to ask anything of me? Or are you simply so weak and complacent that you would prefer to remain passive... nearly a slave..."

A sudden growl halted Sydney in his tracks, and before he could so much as blink, Hardin had grabbed his shoulders, pushing him over backwards to land on top of him. The back of Sydney's head struck one of the legs of the chair that Hardin had knocked over earlier with a sharp cracking sound - cracking wood, he thanked the gods, and not cracking bone, though such an injury would not have done any permanent damage to him anyhow. Even so, the sudden impact left him dizzy and disoriented for a moment, clenching his teeth in pain as his head hit the floor amidst the splintered wood. I pushed him a bit too far this time, it would seem, he thought ironically as he waited for his head to clear. Perhaps I hit too close to the mark...

When his vision had become less blurry and his ears had stopped ringing, he found that Hardin was kneeling over him, regarding him with anxiety. Undoubtedly he'd been apologizing profusely until he realized that Sydney could not make out the words. It was just like John, Sydney thought, to feel bad about this when it was not really his fault at all. "Well... you said that you wanted me at your mercy," Sydney chuckled weakly.

Hardin opened his mouth to reply, then halted as the thought occurred to them both. Though he still ached with need, he was too much a gentle soul at heart to say it, and so Sydney said it for him. "...And here I am."

Hardin just looked at him in disbelief. "Surely you're joking. Sydney, I swear I did not mean-"

"I know, I know..." the mage murmured, as he dizzily put a hand to the tender spot on his head. The metal claws were tipped with blood when he drew them away, and he winced at the sight of it. Very few men could make him bleed, or even dared to try. Looking up into Hardin's alarmed face, he gave him the wickedest smile he could manage under the circumstances. "You're quite strong, John - stronger than I gave you credit for. I'm surprised you had not yet overwhelmed me, if such was your desire."

"It was not, Sydney - I swear, I'd never have done such a thing if-"

"And why not? It was... interesting."

Still concerned, Hardin simply stared at him. "Go ahead," Sydney assured him. "Now is your opportunity, Hardin. Whatever you wish to do to me... do it."

Anxiety and desire seemed to be waging a war within Hardin's heart, and he continued to sit motionless at Sydney's side, debating. The mage's dizziness had passed now, fading away as the Dark knit his wound with uncanny speed, leaving only traces of blood in his hair to show where he had been hurt. With the pain having subsided, his own need was reasserting itself, and he began to grow impatient. "How is it, Hardin...? In your dreams... how does it unfold?"

The larger man still hesitated, and finally Sydney sighed, sitting up. "And here I was beginning to think you had a spine," he muttered. "Very well - have it your way. Or rather, my way, I suppose," he added with a mischievous grin, taking Hardin's face between metal palms. He paused just long enough to kiss Hardin deeply before continuing, and was somewhat disappointed when the kiss was not returned; Hardin simply remained perfectly still and tense under his touch. "Don't tell me you've-"

His words were cut off in a gasp as Hardin's left hand came up abruptly to his shoulder, pushing him over backwards again amidst the remains of the broken chair, and holding him there as he straddled Sydney's knees. The other hand, to the mage's surprise, was clutching the dagger that Hardin always kept in his right boot. As Sydney felt the cold line of steel pressed to his throat, his eyes widened - more out of curiosity than fear, for he knew that Hardin's dagger could do no real damage to him. Still, he wondered with dismay, had he really damaged his friend so much with these mind games, played simply for his own amusement?

Peering into Hardin's mind, he found only one word repeated in his thoughts, over and over with varying emotional tones. Sydney... Cold rage. Sydney... Shame. Sydney... Longing. Sydney... Sydney... "What do you intend to do with that dagger, John?" he whispered softly, looking up into his friend's usually warm brown eyes, which had gone cold and hard.

Hardin stared at him with a blank intensity, as if he was uncertain of what he intended as well. Finally, he cracked a vague smile, and Sydney tensed as he felt his hand tighten on the dagger's hilt; though a dagger could not kill him, the wound could be excruciatingly painful.

Very slowly, the dagger's edge moved away from Sydney's throat, as Hardin dragged it downward, grazing Sydney's chest and stomach just lightly enough not to cut. Carefully, Sydney let out a breath he'd not realized he'd been holding, wondering at the eerie sensation of sharp metal against skin. It made him want to shiver, but he did not dare - he knew how sharp the dagger was, for Hardin kept his weapons well maintained.

Now he knows. Hardin's smile grew wider, almost wonderingly, and he gave a faint laugh. I frightened him. That's one.

Understanding, Sydney's lips quirked in a smile as well. "What else, John?"

"...Is that an invitation?"

"Yes. I'm curious." And incredibly turned on. He'd felt the sensation in Hardin's mind many times before, and knew how agitated it made him, but now to feel it in his own body, particularly when he already associated it with such pleasure...

The dagger still rested at his waist, and Hardin glanced down at it. Almost self-consciously, he pulled it down further to rest near the conspicuous bulge beneath Sydney's leggings. They were nearly indecent at any time, and with him so obviously aroused, they covered very little. With a deft flick of his wrist, Hardin slit the cords that held them to his waist with the dagger's tip, and pushed away the not-so-concealing cloth.

Hardin's hands, careful and warm, began to gently fondle him once the leggings had been removed, and Sydney drew in a sharp breath. "Somehow I doubt that I've given you that particular sensation," he murmured, his own hands of metal clenching against the stone floor beneath him.

"No, not precisely," Hardin agreed. "But I thought you might like it." Parting Sydney's thighs, Hardin's hands slid beneath the mage's body, pulling him closer so that Sydney's legs straddled his lap. Having commandeered the small vial of scented oil from a pocket in Sydney's leggings - he'd learned by now that Sydney always kept it there when he planned one of these surprises - his fingers went between the mage's legs, pressing gently before one slick finger entered his body.

Sydney's teeth clenched at the feel of the penetration and his own muscles contracting tightly; he had not received rather than given for a long time, since he was a mere teenager, and he had forgotten exactly how it had felt to have someone inside him. Just as with the metal claws over flesh, he had felt the sensations in the minds of those he slept with, but not this, exactly, for many years - with blades where his fingers should be, this was not something he had been able to do. A small moan escaped his throat in spite of himself at Hardin's careful ministrations, and Hardin looked up at him, curious.

Two. And in one day.

He'd paused at the sound Sydney had made, and Sydney regarded him with amusement. In truth, it was to mask his own discomfort - often he would stop, simply to make Hardin's longing grow greater, until the larger man was begging him to continue. So this was how it felt... wonderful and yet unbearable. "Not so, Hardin," he murmured. "I may have made a sound, but I have not yet cried out."

"It is enough for me," Hardin responded honestly.

"But not for I." Sydney traced his claws along the line of Hardin's throat, knowing it would encourage his friend to work faster. "Let us see just how much noise you can coax from me."

Hardin hesitated, then lowered his head, unable to contain a smile. Three, as much as he tries to hide it.

Sydney cursed under his breath, and Hardin's smile grew wider as a second finger joined the first, gently soothing the tightened muscles. John had always had incredible hands, Sydney thought vaguely, and in this task they excelled. Still, he kept his jaw tightly clenched, unwilling to let any sound escape his lips but the ragged gasps of breath he drew - there was no sense making it easy on him, was there? The longer he held out, the harder John would have to try, and the more fun it would be for them both.

Still, the sensation was almost too much to bear, and Sydney wrapped his slender legs around the larger man's waist, desiring more skin against skin. Hardin faltered at the sudden contact, and met Sydney's eyes with a look of profound hunger. Gods, I want him. Sydney was not sure whose thought it was.

Unable to bear it any longer, Hardin moved to lie atop Sydney, his mouth covering the mage's as he kissed him deeply. Sydney responded in kind, opening his mouth to the insistence of Hardin's tongue. Another moan, this one deeper, escaped him as Hardin's erection brushed against his own, but the sound was swallowed up in the kiss. As the weight of the larger man settled between his legs, his hips bucked involuntarily as his body cried out to be closer still, and he began to raise his arms, to pull Hardin down on top of him.

Instead, he found his efforts halted by a strong grip, as Hardin took hold of his wrists and held them to the floor, pinning them beside the plates that comprised his shoulders. Sydney struggled beneath him, fighting off the swordsman's firm hold instinctively - he had never liked being anything less than the one person in charge - but Hardin held him fast, looking down at him with a smoldering passion in his eyes. Hah... Is that three, or four? I can't remember, not now...

"Does it matter?" Sydney murmured, ceasing his squirming.

Hardin froze, staring down at him with a strange mixture of desire and rage. "By the way, I _hate_ it when you do that," he growled, punctuating his words by pushing himself into Sydney.

Sydney's mouth fell open as his back arched beneath Hardin, but no sound emerged, so choked up was he by the sensations that made his body shudder. Hardin, however, gave a low groan as Sydney's body tightened around him. Five. Or four... damn it, who cares!?

It astounded Sydney, how rough Hardin's lovemaking was this time - he was usually so gentle, as if he feared Sydney might break, even when he was provoked to desperation. This time, it was nearly an assault, their rhythm driven by an intensity that Sydney had only seen upon the swordsman's face in the thick of a battle. It was a frightening look, full of the carefully buried violence that Hardin had always had simmering within him, for as long as Sydney had known his friend. That violence was mirrored in the savage, almost painful motions of their bodies as Hardin's thrusts grew deeper and deeper, and his own body rose willingly to accept them. Even so, it was not unpleasant, Sydney had to admit - not at all - and as he drew closer to climax, it was an ever greater effort to keep from crying out as loudly as if he were under another type of attack.

Hardin's hands still pinned his wrists, and Sydney struggled against them, more out of a need for release of the energy building inside him than an intolerance of being held captive. If he'd truly wanted to free himself, he could have done so easily with the utterance of any number of spells, but he could not remember ever having been made love to before with such ferocity. It would have terrified him, had he not known he could end it any time he liked...

As much as Hardin thought he was in control, Sydney realized in a sudden moment of clarity - as much as he believed he had Sydney at his mercy - he was not. As much as Hardin thought he was dominating the mage, this was only happening because he allowed it!

Between the irony and a rapidly approaching orgasm, the last of the self-control Sydney had mustered up to keep himself silent slipped away. Instead of crying out, however, Sydney threw back his head and began to laugh uncontrollably.

Hardin looked down at him as if he'd gone insane, and in his surprise, his grasp loosened just enough for Sydney to pull his wrists free. Thoroughly caught up in the moment, Sydney forgot himself for a moment and threw his arms around Hardin's back. Drawing the larger man down atop him, he clung to him as he rode out an incredible climax, still laughing like a madman all the time. Hardin cried out at his touch, and dimly Sydney was aware of tiny trails of blood trickling down Hardin's side where his claws had dug into flesh, but it mattered little; Hardin had reached his climax as well, and his entire body shuddered with pleasure in Sydney's arms as the mage continued to laugh.

Finally he was able to quiet himself, as Hardin rolled onto his side, gasping for breath. "...Gods, Sydney," he panted, "what was so funny about that?" I'm sweating like mad, and these wounds on my back... gods, but that stings!

Still laughing, Sydney remained where he was, flat on his back on the floor as he tried to catch his breath. Taking pity on his friend, he murmured a minor spell of healing to banish what his fingers had done. "My apologies, John - I got a bit carried away."

"You and I both," Hardin agreed, glancing down at the splintered wood on the floor. "Sydney... I-"

"It's all right," Sydney assured him, still a little breathless as he turned to regard Hardin with an amused smile. "I asked for it, did I not?"

"That you did," Hardin muttered. "And I suppose I deserved what I got just as much. After all, you did indulge me... and even after that." But... why was he laughing at me?

Sydney chuckled again. "It was nothing you did wrong, John. Anyhow, we both drew blood today," Sydney pointed out, placing a hand lightly upon Hardin's chest. Hardin cringed at the touch, even knowing that Sydney was much more in control than he had been. "And here I came to you thinking that we would just have a nice, friendly little romp on the floor of the library... or the table... Hm, next time, perhaps."

"Next time," Hardin said grimly as he laid an arm across Sydney's waist, "I suggest you choose a place with pillows. Lots of nice, soft pillows."

"I'll keep it in mind," Sydney agreed. "But you know, John," he added as an afterthought, running one claw teasingly across Hardin's chest, "...considering how nicely this turned out, I'm wondering what might happen if I were to surprise you in other places..."

Hardin narrowed his eyes. "You frighten me, Sydney."

"Exactly - it seems to me that fear can be a very powerful aphrodisiac." He gave Hardin an impish grin. "I must say, this experience was quite an eye-opener..."

"Gods..." Hardin's eyes lifted wearily to the ceiling. "Now I'll have to be even more wary of you and your sudden urges, and all I wanted was to fulfill a few selfish little fantasies..."

"Well, dear Hardin... you don't always get precisely what you ask for, do you?"


End file.
